


The Little Princess

by TrivialPursuit



Series: For the Queen of Ice and Ashes [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Childbirth, F/M, Gen, Pregnancy, Sansa Stark as brought to you by Lise Bolkonsky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 09:39:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12791817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrivialPursuit/pseuds/TrivialPursuit
Summary: Princess Sansa Martell is with child. Oberyn tries to understand.





	The Little Princess

**Author's Note:**

> Recently I've been thinking a lot about the history of childbirth, as well as reading a lot of Tolstoy. So this is sort of reflective of both of those things, since I find the historical experience of pregnancy, and especially the anxieties that surrounded it, very interesting, as well as the general potential for body horror. At the same time I was trying to show a softer, more intimate side of Sansa and Oberyn's relationship, though I don't know if I succeeded.

_She was not surprised that he had come; she did not understand that he had come. His coming had no relation to her suffering and its relief._

  
-Leo Tolstoy, _War and Peace_ Part One, IX, trans. Larissa Volokhonsky and Richard Pevear

 

 

Sansa does not take to pregnancy as Oberyn had expected her to. Perhaps because she so resembles the Maiden reborn, Oberyn expected his wife to become the Mother with natural ease. He had expected her to smile beatifically as her stomach gently grew with their child, to soften the edges that seemed designed to repel. He had expected her to relish the physical symbol of her future and security growing within her.

Instead she is anxious and fearful, pestering the maester with her questions about every little change and treating her stomach as if it is made of glass. Apart from her daily walks around the gardens, she keeps entirely to her rooms, alternating between staring at her stomach and feverishly making swaddling clothes and soft blankets in Stark grey and white.

Oberyn finds himself in Sunspear the week before his wife’s third confinement. Though this would not usually affect his routine – Oberyn was oftentimes in the same place as his wife, even during her pregnancies, and they rarely spent time together – he found himself drawn to her chambers.

When he arrives, Sansa is engaged once more in staring at her stomach, with a look of fear on her face that Oberyn finds incomprehensible. She is surrounded by drifts of baby clothes, both the piles she had made for the previous children as well as new items embroidered with a wolves howling at glowing red suns. It is a behaviour that Oberyn finds baffling; neither Ellaria nor any of the other mothers of his daughters behaved in such a way. For Ellaria, pregnancy was something to be revelled in; she delighted in watching her body change and coaxing new responses out of her became the source of many delightful afternoons for the both of them. It did not paralyse Ellaria as it seems to have Sansa, who will not let him so much as touch her when she is with child, nor travel further than the confines of Sunspear.

It is with this skittishness in mind that he offers her his arm, suggesting a turn about the garden, for the lemon trees are just blooming and she will miss their flowering during her confinement. Oberyn does not know why he offers and does not think she will accept, though for some reason it is important to him that she does.

Perhaps Sansa understands this importance that Oberyn cannot articulate, for she allows him to help her out of her chair and guide her, one hand cupping her elbow and the other floating over her lower back, outside to the gardens. The gardens, for their part, have understood the importance of appearing their best on this day. The Princess’ favourite flowers, the rose hybrid and the four lemon trees Doran had planted each time she announced she was with child, are in full bloom, though it is several weeks too early while the rest of the plants are budding with promise.

People quiet as they pass, the chatter of the garden fading away until only the burble of the fountain and the soft hum of the birds remain. Oberyn is not sure if this is because of the fearsome reputation his wife has established for herself or pity for how fearful and delicate she looks, clutching her husband’s arm and allowing Oberyn to shepherd her along the path.

‘I suppose,’ she says, stopping by the fountain and staring determinedly into the water, watching the ripples shape and reshape her reflection, ‘I suppose you think I’m terribly foolish and cowardly.’

‘I don’t think that,’ Oberyn says, though he isn’t sure if he believes his own words. ‘I don’t think you’re a coward or a fool.’

‘Ellaria thinks I worry about the birth. Which is true, I do. Babes are so very fragile, even when they are inside of their mothers and so many things might happen to a mother.’ She casts her eyes to the lemon blossoms, carefully assessing them, as if for signs of ill health.

Oberyn stares fixedly at the youngest lemon tree, ignoring the flowers and focusing on the roots, suddenly unable to look at his wife.

‘I do worry about the birth, but I worry more about what comes after.’ The Princess sits heavily on the edge of the fountain, folding her hands together and rubbing at the back of her left hand with a thumb. The skin already looks red and irritated, though if it causes any discomfort Sansa seems unaware of it. 'If I truly loved my child I would cut him out of my womb and make sure he will never be born. But I am a selfish woman and so I cannot not bring myself to. The boys will become men, and like all men, they will use women like their father did before them. The girls will be like their mother, victims and monsters.’

Oberyn finds himself unexpectedly stung by this assessment of his character. He has always attempted to treat women with the greatest respect, even his wife, though he neither loved nor desired her. He wants to tell Sansa that he has never tried to use her and only wants her to be content.

‘Men do not hurt girls in Dorne,’ Oberyn says instead, ‘we are taught to revere and respect women for both their minds and their beauty.’

He knows, as soon as he says it, that it was the wrong thing to say. Any vulnerability that might have shown itself on his wife’s face vanishes, shuttered behind her chilly mask. She laughs, clear and pure and terrible.

‘Men hurt girls everywhere.’ Her response is eerily reminiscent of a past conversation, and once more Oberyn wonders what his wife might have been.

**Author's Note:**

> [ Let's burn together](https://myladydisdainareyouyetliving.tumblr.com)


End file.
